Sherlock&Greg&John OT3 Drabbles
by iolre
Summary: Various fluffy drabbles of my favorite OT3. Updated as I write them. Not all are related. Feel free to send prompts to my tumblr (same as my username).
1. Jelly Babies

A/N: Some OT3 fluff. Trying to get some more fluff under my belt. My beta reader prompted me with "Jelly Babies" and this is what I came up with.

* * *

Greg yawned as he opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Baker Street, he noted. So he had ended up at John and Sherlock's the previous night. Not that he minded, of course. He quite enjoyed the many nights he spent curled up with one or two of his partners. Blearily he scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes, the hand continuing upward to run through his hair. He froze as he encountered a lump. Gingerly he continued, examining the lump suspiciously. It was soft and squishy - promising, albeit a bit frightening. With Sherlock in the house, soft and squishy wasn't nearly as reassuring as it should be. There was some powder on the lump.

A yawn next to him distracted him from his mission and he glanced over, a smile on his lips as John turned over next to him. Warm blue eyes met Greg's in a shy smile. Abruptly the smile disappeared and John blinked, slowly pushing himself up on his shoulder. Greg sighed. "I know," he told the military doctor.

"Whassat?" John asked, leaning towards him, his sleepy eyes curious.

"I have no idea," Greg responded fervently. "Could be anything." His eyes flickered to the door and John's eyes followed. Sherlock was the most likely culprit of anything odd that ended up anywhere on the two. John was waking up and he scooted closer. Greg couldn't help but shiver as it brought their chests into close proximity and John shot him a smirk. "Bastard."

"Mm, yet you sleep here anyways." John chuckled and gently probed the sugary mass on Greg's head. "I think it's a Jelly Baby."

"Sherlock," Greg said with a scowl. "Bloody hell. I thought we cured him of eating sweets in bed."

"So did I." John sat up slowly, stretching sleepy limbs before he scooted closer, tugging at Greg until his head was in his lap. There was a knock on the door and both men looked up to see it open. Sherlock was standing there, a small pair of scissors in his hand. Cautious eyes flickered from Greg to John in turn before John patted the side of the bed, indicating that he was to come join them. Greg felt the bed shift from where he was sitting as Sherlock slid onto it in a fluid motion. He watched John take the scissors from Sherlock and tilted his head slightly to allow John better access to the lump in his hair.

"Sherlock, c'mere." Greg patted the spot next to him and Sherlock crossed his legs, sitting not far from Greg. His head was downcast and he seemed reluctant to make eye contact with either of them. John's hands were reassuring on Greg's head as he tilted it this way and that. "John, what are you doing?" Greg asked, good-natured. His attention was drawn away by Sherlock when the taller man lifted his head defiantly to meet Greg's eyes. He seemed reluctant and hesitant, as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

"Shut up and stop moving unless you want me to cut your head off," John retorted, his fingers gentle.

"I thought you were supposed to be a surgeon." John rolled his eyes at Greg's joke, a grin on his face. "Sherlock, what's wrong?" He slipped his hand into the detective's, twining the fingers easily. "Neither of us are mad at you, promise." Sherlock stared at him as if assessing the truthfulness of what he said. The relationship between the three of them was an odd one, yet it worked for them nonetheless. John and Sherlock lived together and Lestrade spent far more time at 221B Baker Street than he did at his own flat. Sherlock had mentioned selling Greg's flat (as Greg didn't use it anyway). It was a surprising suggestion, coming from him. Of the three of them, Sherlock had been the most hesitant about their relationship.

Neither man had been wholly surprised to discover that, while Sherlock wasn't a virgin, he had never maintained a romantic relationship. For his first to be a polyamorous one (albeit a closed relationship) must have been a surprise even to him. For all that he was so confident in many areas in his life, their relationship was one he still treated as if it was going to break the moment he did something wrong. It was heartbreaking to witness and John and Greg did the best that they could to stem any fragility that came their way. They allowed Sherlock to set the limit for how physically demonstrative their relationship was - or at least the part of their trio that included him.

If, some nights, it ended up with Greg and John snuggled up in John's bed and Sherlock downstairs pouring over a case, that was alright. Other nights Sherlock ended up there with them, the trio together and comfortably warm. Sometimes Sherlock would deign to sleep with John while Greg was out, sometimes he would accompany Greg to his flat and stay there. The flexibility their relationship afforded them was immense and the men adored it. For John, the advantage of having a second person to temper Sherlock's moods was vast.

There was a snipping sound above Greg's head and he had to restrain himself from flinching. "Sorry about that," John said cheerfully. Sherlock lifted his and Greg's combined hands, pressing a kiss to the knuckles in an apology. Greg stared at him, his eyebrows raised.

"Have you been reading romance novels again?" he asked Sherlock suspiciously. The light flush on the alabaster cheeks was enough of a confirmation and Greg's lips twitched in a barely-concealed grin.

"Hmph. Boring." Sherlock hopped off the bed and twirled around, storming petulantly out the door.

"That's much more effective when he's not in his pyjamas," John chuckled, his hands deft and gentle in Greg's hair. Another few snips and Greg felt John lift his hands away, the clump going with it. "There we go." He ruffled Greg's hair affectionately before he leaned down and kissed his forehead. "We'll have to check the bed next time."

"On the bright side," Greg smirked, "It was in my hair this time." John groaned.

"We're definitely checking the bed before we have sex." John flopped back on the bed, Greg's head still in his lap.

"You mean you didn't enjoy melted jelly babies in your pubic hair?" Greg asked innocently. John growled and slipped out from behind Greg, stalking down the bed to claim his mouth. The two men kissed in a battle for dominance and John won, having pinned Greg to the bed. Greg was panting heavily - John was an excellent kisser. and could reduce both Greg and Sherlock to puddles of goo. "He's quiet out there," Greg remarked between heavy breaths.

John sighed. "Better go see what he's up to. And raid his snack stash again."

Greg nodded his agreement. "Sometimes I'm surprised there are still Jelly Babies left in the world, the way Sherlock eats them." John grinned at him and got up, grabbing Greg's dressing gown and tossing it to him before he strode out the door to the kitchen. A smile on his face, Greg slipped his own on and followed John out to face the day.


	2. To Love Somebody

A/N: This is so overdue an update! I'm so sorry. So I started a new prompt blog (minorsherlockprompts dot tumblr dot com), so please please please feel free to send me prompts there! As I fill them they'll get posted here. I take all but Johnlock and Mystrade prompts (because it's for minor pairings specifically). Sorry this took so long!

* * *

Sherlock flopping into the chair in Greg's office didn't even register on the DI's mind until Sherlock made an irritated noise and Greg looked up, lifting an eyebrow. "John throw you out?" he asked mildly.

The scowl on Sherlock's face turned adorably petulant, and he would not meet Greg's eyes. Yes, then. They had just wrapped up a case, and Greg was doing the paperwork required to file charges and other administrative duties he had to fulfill. However, he was not surprise by Sherlock's appearance in his office.

He had predicted it the moment Sherlock had lept off the roof to land on the fire escape with John three or four metres behind him. It had been two years since Sherlock had jumped, and a year since he had returned from the dead. John mostly refused to go up to the roof, and had become violently sick the first time Sherlock had gone up on one after his return. Greg couldn't blame him, could not fault the numerous nightmares he witnessed sleeping with John at night.

"I can't go home until you're done," Sherlock muttered, drawing his legs up to his chest, a surprising feat considering the size of the chair and the length of his legs.

"That bad, eh?" Greg inquired.

Sherlock was silent and did not answer. Greg sighed, and then stood up and locked the door to his office. It was the middle of the night, and there was no one around, but it was better safe than sorry. He had close to an hour before he would be able to go home at the earliest, and that meant he would be back in very early tomorrow, but it would be worth it to restore the peace between his boyfriends. He sat back down in his chair, angling it to the side. "C'mere."

Sherlock scowled reluctantly at him for a few moments before unfurling and walking over to the DI, staring at him for a long second. Making a decision, he straddled Greg's lap and wrapped a lanky arm about Greg's shoulders, his head buried in the crook of Greg's neck. His face was completely hidden, curly hair going up Greg's nose and invading his personal space. Soothingly he ran his hands up and down the consulting detective's back, pressing his face into Sherlock's hair and inhaling deeply. It wasn't often that Sherlock allowed himself to be vulnerable, but sometimes he just needed the reassurance that he wasn't going to be left alone, abandoned by the two men that cared so deeply about him.

They sat like that for at least ten minutes, Greg pressing occasional kisses to the wild mass of hair. "You can do your paperwork in the morning," Sherlock said finally. Greg couldn't hide a smile, hearing the words underneath Sherlock's petulant, demanding tone.

He kissed Sherlock's head one last time and waited for the tall man to uncurl off of his lap. "Let's go home, love." Standing, he gave Sherlock a quick kiss before grabbing his coat, rubbing his thighs as he did so. Sherlock wasn't that heavy, but he was solid, and Greg's thighs could only stand so much before getting sore. They walked out of the Yard together, side by side, and hailed a taxi back to 221B Baker Street. Greg stayed there most nights, especially when he was needed.

When they arrived at Baker Street, John was sitting in the lounge with a mug of steaming tea clasped in his hands. Greg walked in with Sherlock trailing a little behind. The DI pressed a gentle hand to John's shoulder, leaning down to give him a soft kiss. "Tea, the ever-present British coping mechanism," he teased gently. John allowed a faint smile to curve the edge of his lips, but it tightened the moment Sherlock came into view.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock said before Greg could say anything. His eyes were downcast, and he fidgeted nervously with his scarf. "I'm sorry."

Both men were quiet, attempting to figure out whether they had ever heard two 'I'm sorry' from Sherlock in a row. Even when he returned from the dead he had not apologised. The man's long fingers plucked at the sleeve of his coat, and Greg walked over and gently slid it off.

"You'll overheat with it on," Greg explained, careful to not make eye contact if Sherlock did not want it. Sherlock allowed Greg to manhandle him, enjoying the gentle, brief caresses.

"No more roofs," John said, watching Greg as he hung up Sherlock's prized Belstaff.

"No more roofs," Sherlock agreed quietly.

"One more time, Sherlock..." John started, unable to look in Sherlock's direction as he trailed off.

Sherlock walked over and carefully sank down into John's lap as he had done to Greg earlier. Greg sat down next to the two of them, rubbing Sherlock's back quietly. "Please." Sherlock's voice was so quiet that it was only due to proximity that either man heard it.

John pressed a gentle kiss to Sherlock's forehead and Greg smiled a half-smile at John when their eyes met. "Let's go to bed," Greg suggested. "Much more comfortable."

WIthout a word, Sherlock stood and walked into their bedroom, knowing they would follow, and placed his trust and fragile heart into the strong, protective hands of the two men who loved him.


	3. A Mother's Perceptions

A/N: Another short little drabble~ Prompt was John and Sherlock meeting Greg's family!

* * *

"So what do you do, Sherlock?" Greg's mum looked up from her food, focusing a shrewd gaze upon the curly-haired consulting detective. Greg and John held their breaths, although John had his foot half-lifted under the table, poised to slam it down onto Sherlock's if he had to. There was only a few ways to manage Sherlock's behavior in public when neither of his lovers could give him dirty looks or kiss him to shut him up.

It wasn't proper, after all.

"I am a consulting detective," Sherlock answered. "I work with Lestrade on his cases when his idiotic - when his team cannot figure it out." He shot John a scowl. The blond-haired military doctor smiled blandly back, the heel of his foot a bit sore from where he had stomped on Sherlock's feet. Greg shot John a thankful look.

"What about you, John?" Greg's dad asked after a few moments of silence had elapsed.

"I work part-time as a GP at a clinic, when I'm not chasing after him on Greg's cases," John jerked his thumb in Sherlock's direction, a fond smile on his face. "Someone has to keep him out of trouble."

Greg smiled at John, quickly averting his gaze down to his food. His parents didn't know the reality of his relationship with the two men, and he doubted he would ever tell them. They didn't even know he was gay. Informing them that he was dating not just one man but two - he didn't even want to think about how that would go over.

Getting Sherlock to agree to come to dinner had been far easier than he had thought. Sherlock had been oddly eager to meet Greg's family, and Greg had the suspicion that Sherlock simply wanted to see more of where the DI had grown up. John and Greg had taken turns lecturing Sherlock on behavior, and after the third time Sherlock had blown up 221B, ensuring that they spent the last night before the dinner in Greg's flat. It had been nice and dusty, since Greg spent the majority of the time with his two partners.

Dinner went well, Greg thought as he took a large bite of his dessert. Cheesecake, his favourite. While his Mum's banoffee pie was delicious, he much preferred her cheesecake. Sherlock, however, disagreed, and he dug ravenously into the large slice of banoffee pie in front of him. Greg's Mum had declared him in need of 'fattening up' and had given him the largest portion of the desserts. John had bit back a snort and disguised it as a cough, startling a laugh out of Greg.

"Gregory, help me with the dishes, please?" His mum's voice cut into his thoughts and Greg nodded, standing up. He shot John a look and John nodded, silently promising to keep an eye on the third member of their partnership. One never did know what Sherlock would get up to without his two partners to temper his behavior.

They fell into an old routine, once in the kitchen, Greg washing and his mother drying. It was like being young again, back when they didn't have a dishwasher. His mother still preferred to do the dishes by hand, saying that it kept the dishes cleaner. "Your boys seem nice," she offered, her voice deliberately casual.

Greg froze, the washcloth held pressed against the plate in his hand. "Pardon?" he said, blinking. "They're my coworkers, Mum."

"You don't have to lie to me, Gregory," she said, taking the clean plate from his hand with a gentle tug.

"I'm not lying," he said mulishly, lips pressed tight together as he resumed cleaning the dishes.

"You love them." He started at her words, but didn't stop the circular motion as he wiped the bowl and passed it her way. "Gregory, I'm not stupid. I can see it."

He sat the dish cloth down on the counter, gripping the edge with both hands. "I didn't want to say anything."

"Silly," she murmured, wrapping a frail arm about his shoulder in a hug. "You're my son, and I love you, no matter who you're with. Besides, they don't seem that bad."

There was a shout and a yell, and John's scolding voice clearly rose above the mayhem. Greg couldn't help the faint smile that came to his lips. "You might want to re-think that."

His mum shook her head fondly and grabbed a ladle, heading out to the dining room to sort out the chaos. "I'll get them straightened out, don't you worry."


End file.
